1 A Night At The Opera
by Chariel
Summary: A short fic based around events at the end of Gorgeous Carat Galaxy (in which Noir wishes to acquire a certain brooch, and Florian wishes he didn't have to wear a dress...)


A Night At The Opera

By Basicblack

Initially the prospect of liberating a topaz brooch from the more than ample jewellery collection of a duchess didn't much interest Florian either way. In fact it wasn't until Noir proposed his plan for attaining the prize that he even seemed like he was paying attention.

"You want me to _what_?"

"I want you to accompany me," Noir repeated patiently, with obvious relish, "disguised as a lady. I need you to faint somewhere conspicuous and create a distraction." Meeting the indignant amethyst gaze he smiled in a manner calculated to further enrage. "Laila is too recognisable." He was enjoying this. "I've given it _careful_ consideration - "

"I'm sure you have, and you're welcome to just carry on considering. I'm not doing it. I still have some dignity."

"_That_ can be remedied." Noir murmured, absent-mindedly fondling the whip that had mysteriously appeared in his hand. Florian tossed his head defiantly.

"If you start that business again I can't guarantee I won't fraudulently disappear."

Noir rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Don't be prideful over this. You know you can be more convincing as a woman than me." A fair point. "Noel thought you were his mother, even in your normal attire." A slight frown creased Florian's fair brow at this. "In fact, I think he probably still does - "

"You're not helping your case." Florian pointed out from between gritted teeth.

"Okay," Noir sighed after a moment's pause, "look, this one is important." Something in his tone melted Florian's resolve.

"Why?" He asked curiously, realising he would surely, in the not-too-distant future, be wearing a dress. Noir waved a hand dismissively and rose from his chair.

"We'll discuss it in the morning. Get some sleep now and look pretty for tomorrow, I have a tailor coming at ten. He'll be discrete. He - thinks the dress is for - _personal use_." He looked faintly sheepish in spite of himself, finishing hurriedly. "Just play along." He removed himself from the room with great haste before Florian's protests could mature into anything more coherent than spluttering.

"I - can't breathe!" Florian gasped desperately the following day, clutching the mantelpiece to keep himself upright. The tailor emitted a frustrated sound and looked to Noir, who was reclining in a chair opposite, smoking and striving to keep his face straight.

"Stop fussing," he berated in an amused tone. "If the other young ladies can put up with it so can you." The tailor blushed.

"I AM NOT - " _gasp_, "A YOUNG LADY!" The tailor blanched at Florian's pained outburst. He was beginning to wonder if the handsome sum he would receive for his services was enough. It was true he had stabbed this young - gentleman - with countless pins, but it was only because he wouldn't keep still, and his figure wasn't greatly conducive to dress fitting. The corset was definitely helping; with some padding about the hips the boy would look quite presentable. This, too, was worrying.

Completing the lacing-up of the corset the tailor stepped away, leaving Florian teetering by himself. "I had to fasten it rather tightly to give sir… the required look." The man observed with some concern. Florian's hands wavered from his waist up to his chest, and he turned to Noir with wide, alarmed eyes. Actually, his pale skin was starting to turn a slightly peculiar shade…

"I really - " he began, but before he could finish the thought he fainted dead, landing in an unceremonious sprawl on the carpet. The tailor looked horrified, rushing to free him from the confines of the dangerous apparel.

"I'm so sorry." He apologised, tearing at the bow in the tough laces. Noir waved aside his concern.

"Just give him a few minutes to recover and we'll try again." He decided, lighting another cigar.

Less than a week later the dress was completed and delivered, as per the arrangement, for the night of the opera. Getting Florian into it was once again proving to be something of a trial.

"Stop squirming." Noir growled, drawing the laces of the corset still tighter. Florian braced himself on a nearby bookshelf, glaring resentfully at the tomes before him. He gave a choke of protest as Noir completed his task and leaned over him to murmur in his ear. "Time for the dress - " Sliding deftly out from beneath him Florian swayed stiffly across to where the required item was hanging. Glancing over his shoulder he found his companion watching him intently.

"You're creepy." He accused, stepping into the dress and starting carefully on the fastenings. Before long Noir drifted over to help him, and, faintly embarrassed by his proximity, Florian kept his gaze fixed on the floor until the garment was secure. He felt fingertips on his chin as Noir tilted his face upwards, looking him over critically.

"Beautiful," he breathed distractedly. Florian felt himself blushing heatedly but found he was unable to look away from the intense emerald eyes. With a dangerous smile Noir leaned slowly closer until Florian could feel his breath on his lips. He closed his eyes instinctively, and was violently startled by a small voice a few feet away.

"Mama?" He turned his wide, shocked eyes to the petite form standing in the doorway staring up at him. His blush deepened. Noel took a step forwards, his teddy clutched precariously by its left foot and trailing on the floor.

"No, Noel. It's me." He cleared his throat awkwardly. Noir had inexplicably leapt a good three feet clear of him since the boy appeared. Noel looked confused. "I'll explain it to you," Florian decided briskly, crossing the room with a rustle of skirts and taking the child by the hand. "I think I'll ask Laila to do my hair. Come on." He tugged Noel into the hall without a backward glance.

Noir snarled defeatedly to himself and lit a cigar.

The End


End file.
